My thoughts are dry leaves, when I try to gather them, the wind of life blows
My thoughts are dry leaves, the gales of emotion scatter them in all directions
My thoughts are dry leaves it would only take a small puff – my thoughts – where was I?
My thoughts are dry leaves a single careful match and they’d all be blazing fiercely
My thoughts are dry leaves imagination and art will be my rake and my barrow
I will sweep extravagantly the pile
childlike, with both arms outstretched
in a confettied swirl of glorious confusion
My thoughts are dry leaves